


You Think This Happens Every Day?

by thatbug



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast, Humor, Love, M/M, Ridiculous, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbug/pseuds/thatbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A witch curses Enjolras to turn into a hideous beast until his true love kisses him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is ever-so-slightly (extremely) ridiculous, so don't take it to seriously. But hopefully, it's a little cute. 
> 
> Set in some country somewhere, in some time period that bears little resemblance to any actual time period, but where magic happens and true love is real.
> 
> Title from the Princess Bride.

“I don’t give a fuck, Marius,” Enjolras said flatly, and it was the truth. The king was dying, his eldest son was corrupt and weak, and in all likelihood, the land would soon change from one of unfair taxes and deep-rooted inequality to one of insanity, brutality, and starvation. 

The last time a king as mad as the crown prince was in power, the only thing that drew the country out of the famine and war was the intervention of white witch, the sort of spell that lasted a hundred years, and the heroic actions of a bumbling but kindhearted peasant boy.

“She’s my true love,” Marius said dreamily, and Enjolras considered slapping him. Though true love was, of course, a great power that should not be underestimated in the slightest, it could not have been of lesser importance. It was not an easy thing, to convince a large group of undereducated peasants that they could, in fact, rise up successfully against the crown prince, but Enjolras was doing his best.

“It isn’t important now,” Enjolras snapped. “I came to this tavern to hopefully plant the seeds of rebellion, and yet you have done nothing but speak of your growing passion, sending away all who wish to engage in a serious conversation about our current leader, whose imminent death will spark disaster.”

“I thought you hated the king,” Marius said sullenly. “He taxes us indecently and provides no security.”

“His son is worse,” Enjolras said, “This has become a serious matter, which you would know if you removed your head from your ass.”

Marius looked hurt, but before he could respond, the old woman who had been sitting nearby stood up. Enjolras had been ignoring her, assuming she was asleep, but it soon became apparent that she was not.

As she walked towards him, her years melted away, leaving only a beautiful woman with huge brown eyes and ebony curls. “You do not respect true love,” she said to Enjolras.

“That’s not true,” Enjolras said with a glower. He was never one to turn down a fight, and he didn’t want perfect strangers, even ones with clear magical powers, attempting to lecture him on his views on love, which were perfectly reasonable.

“Strictly speaking…” Marius began, but stopped when he saw the woman’s face. “Never mind. I’ll be off?”

“Go to your love,” the woman said with a smile, and Marius sprinted for the door. Enjolras sighed.

“I don’t have an issue with love,” he said, “I have an issue with anything that infringes upon the freedom of the people, and frankly, it’s hard to convince people to liberate themselves when he’s chattering on about silken hair and glowing eyes.”

The witch did not look amused or sympathetic. “You set your sights too broad, and so I must curse you.”

“That makes no sense,” Enjolras said.

“You do not care for true love, so you cannot care for people,” the witch said. 

“That makes even less sense,” Enjolras replied. 

“I thus curse you,” the witch said, “to live your life as an unsightly beast, until your true love kisses you. Only when you have loved as the boy you mocked loves will you understand, and only then will you be free.”

“What does my attitude have to do with my looks?” Enjolras protested, “Couldn’t you curse me to just not understand true love until I found true love?”

The witch smiled serenely, “Beautiful boys like you find love easily. Only when your love can see you as a monster and love you still will it be true.”

“That’s assuming people are a good deal more shallow than they are,” Enjolras pointed out. 

The witch was silent, only giving him one more smile before she disappeared.

The instant she vanished, Enjolras felt himself begin to change. His bones lengthened, his joints twisted, his hands and face sprouted fur. He let out a howl of pain as his body rearranged itself, growing and distorting until his face was long and wolfish, his eyes small and beady, his back hunched, his clothes torn, his skin covered in gold and brown fur.

Pulling himself into a crouch, he growled angrily and began to limp towards home.


	2. The End

He made it to his house just as the sun was starting to rise. He had narrowly avoided an unpleasant encounter with a feral dog, his clothes were almost entirely shredded, and his entire body ached.

Getting the door open was harder than normal, considering his hands were now bony, malformed, and sporting impressive claws. He stumbled inside, ready wanting to crawl into bed and sleep, and hopefully wake up with the beast situation nothing more than an unpleasant dream.

Instead he was met with a long blade held at eye level and a furious mage brandishing it. The blade was lit by a soft blue light, the same color as the mage’s eyes. The light, in beastly form, was blinding.

He sighed. “Grantaire. Put that down.”

Grantaire lowered the blade immediately, the light dying out of his eyes. “Are you kidding me? Enjolras? Is that you?” 

Enjolras nodded. “I was uninterested in hearing about Cosette again, and I told Marius as much. Unfortunately, some witch was eavesdropping.”

Grantaire chuckled. His lack of reaction was slightly worrisome, if understandable. “And I’m assuming it wasn’t your anger at the crown prince that set her off?”

“No, apparently I don’t have enough respect for true love, so I need to be ugly until I find it. You know, so I’ll know for sure.” Enjolras answered. He sat down in a chair, which groaned under his greater weight. 

Grantaire snorted. “That makes no sense.”

“That’s what I said, but she didn’t listen.”

“And you didn’t bother to explain the situation?” Grantaire asked. 

“No,” Enjolras said, “I didn’t have time. I haven’t had time to look at myself, how bad is it?”

“I’d run screaming if I saw you on the street,” Grantaire said cheerily. “Seriously, you look like a demonic wolf-rat. I don’t think even I could call you beautiful.”

“That’s worrisome,” Enjolras said, not particularly worried. “Now, do you mind fixing me, or would you like to continue to mock me?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I don’t actually know. This is the worst it’s ever been, I almost feel as though I should take a moment to appreciate it.”

“Or you could fix me, and appreciate how I normally look,” Enjolras said. “If I recall correctly, you’re quite fond of it.”

“True, true,” Grantaire said, nodding. “Is it a standard curse?”

“True love’s kiss.”

“Classic, effective. Still unsure of why she put the ugly in, but hey, sometimes it’s good to be traditional,” Grantaire said. He walked over to Enjolras’s chair, and put a hand on his furry face, tilting his head up.

Softly, sweetly, Grantaire leaned down and pressed his lips to Enjolras’s, careful to avoid the fangs. 

Changing back was much less painful. It felt like letting out breath he’d been holding for too long; the air filled his lungs again, the ache was gone, everything felt right. “Thank you,” he whispered, kissing Grantaire again.

Grantaire pulled back. “Nothing quite like these frequent reminders that I really am your one and only. What is it, the forth time this has happened?”

“Fifth,” Enjolras said.

“I only remember four,” Grantaire said. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“The wizard said it would be broken with a kiss from ‘one who truly loves you.’” Enjolras said, “So I had Combeferre take care of it.”

“I’m insulted,” Grantaire said, not sounding particularly insulted. 

“It happened twice in a week. You would have mocked me mercilessly.”

“I might do it still. Would it kill you to act like you think love is worthwhile?”

Grantaire’s tone was light. It was an old argument, mostly resolved, now just something to smile about. “So should I walk around all day, singing your praises and ignoring things that are important?”

“Maybe not singing,” Grantaire said.

“You’re impossible. You know as well as I do that the idea that true love is everything does more harm than good. True love won’t keep the kings from stealing your money or from beheading your children. It will just make you happy as you let it happen. Love, contrary to Marius's opinion, is not everything.”

“Oh, darling," Grantaire sighed dreamily, smirking, "I love to hear you talk about how I’m not enough for you."

He wasn’t serious, but Enjolras couldn’t help snapping. “You’re perfect for me and you know it,” he said, sharper than was probably necessary. “But don’t pretend like you wouldn’t get bored if all we did was stare into each others eyes.”

“Valid point,” Grantaire said, “but maybe if you did it a little more often you’d stop sprouting fangs and fur every time you’re around an emotional magic-maker. Don’t tell me you don’t think it’s a little disturbing how many people believe you hate love?”

“I will allow that it’s confusing,” Enjolras said, “but what I find disturbing is that the sort of mind-numbing love of Marius is seen as the ideal. Can you think of how little would get done if everyone spent their lives ignoring problems and kissing their One?”

Grantaire laughed. “So, instead, they should follow your excellent example?”

Enjolras glowered. “Ours. They should follow our example. I adore you and you don’t get in my way.”

“What romance! ‘You don’t get in my way,’ you say.” Grantaire kissed him, with a smile. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, slightly ridiculous, but I hope you liked it.


End file.
